


A Rose in the End

by queenmedusa



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/M, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-21 14:29:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6054981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenmedusa/pseuds/queenmedusa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An ending in which no cure for the Taint is discovered.  In the Deep Roads, the former King of Ferelden finds someone he did not expect to see.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Rose in the End

Twenty years had seemed like enough time when he was younger, but now in his forties and with streaks of grey in his hair, Alistair knew it was never going to be long enough once the Calling came to collect him.  He knew in his heart that he had lived a good life.  He had done more than any bastard of Redcliffe had any right.  He had been Warden, king, father...  It was not a life to regret.

 

So when the Calling became too much to ignore – a pounding at his temple that was excruciating on its gentler days – Alistair faced it as bravely as he knew how.  The King of Ferelden left his throne quietly, matters tied up neatly in a stack of documents for Anora to discover in the morning.  He left in the dead of night, after kissing his daughter goodnight – his treasure and his heir – and exchanging a look with his wife that Anora dismissed at the time but would likely analyze for clues days after he was gone.

 

He left the city a Warden, his old armor rusted and dull.  The guards spared him no second glances as he rode out of the city gate.  There was freedom in being faceless, no longer the king.  It reminded him of days past when there was a different purpose driving his steps and he was nothing but a bastard son.  It was uncomplicated then; he had only wanted to save people.  He had no idea then how much longer that journey would end up being, taking him to the throne of Ferelden and beyond.

 

A memory of a person plagued him as he rode the meandering road – a friend he had not seen in years.  More than a friend, really, but it had been a long time since he had heard from her save for the exchanging of a few letters.  The love of his life had been with him on that journey – or, rather, he had been with her.  He followed her, as faithful as the Mabari hound at her heels but with fewer fleas.

 

His Warden had stayed with him for a time after becoming king.  She had been so fiercely proud of him that it gave him confidence in the beginning.  She made him better... though she had not been good for his marriage.  He had no patience for Anora’s comments – the two of them had come as a package deal – but then Anora had eventually fallen pregnant.  She could no longer tolerate the competition.  Quietly, his Warden had left – respecting a mother’s fears.

 

How he had raged.  He had been made king by her, only to be abandoned... But then on a warm spring day his daughter had been born.  The anger and hurt had faded then, replaced by a father’s love.  Anora and he had even found a way to be content together.

 

He was greeted in Orzammar warmly by old warriors who remembered a time when they fought with the Wardens in the Battle of Denerim – when all of Ferelden came together to defeat the Blight.  He drank an evening away with them, but before he could get too comfortable, the Calling reminded him that it could not be escaped.  Faces and claws appeared in his dreams, as well as a singing.  His head screamed at him until he could not sleep, and then he knew that there could be no more delay.  

 

He only wished that he would not have to face it alone.

 

When his host’s household began to bustle again, he knew that morning had come.  Or whatever passed for morning in the deep.  There were no long farewells to be made, only a firm handshake and a nod once he had been escorted to the entrance where other Wardens had walked before.

 

An hour into the Deep Roads, he about fell over himself when he saw a familiar feminine figure waiting for him.  He was like a green boy, crying out in surprise as he caught himself from tripping.  Well into his forties and his Warden still had that effect on him.

 

“Watch it,” he heard her voice ring out into the massive hall.  Alistair winced as he knew that she had seen him stumble.  “You’ve come so far to break your neck now.”

 

“You,” he began, dazed.  “Maker’s breath, are you really here or am I seeing things?”

 

“You might be,” she teased and it was like the old days again.

 

“Don’t say that.  Don’t tell me that I’ve skipped the headache stage and gone straight to crazy.”

 

Her smile became tight-lipped and firm, but her warm, beautiful eyes were still pleased to see him.  “I’m here, my king.”

 

“Alistair,” he corrected gently.  “It’s still Alistair to you.”

 

“I suppose...”  She trailed off, and when she spoke next, it was to answer a question that hung in the air but he had not regained enough sense to ask yet.  “I heard you had gone missing from the throne.  After your last letter… I knew.”

 

“I’m amazed you could get here so quickly.”

 

“Well, you know.  Griffons.”  She smirked and his heart soared at the familiar sight – not to mention the very hint of griffons.

 

“I hope you’re not joking.”   But he knew from her shrug and she would never tell.  It was more likely that she went through a few horses to meet him here in time, but she always liked her mystery.  Alistair didn’t press it.

 

He sat his shield down against a pillar.  “It’s gotten worse these last couple of months,” he tried to say, his words sounding like an apology. “Too much to bear.  I’ve been fighting it, but—”

 

She was suddenly before him, taking his hands gently.  “You don’t have to explain, Alistair.  I know better than anyone.”

 

“It never stops,” he continued.  “I can no longer rule, and Anora has no use for a husband that will be bedridden.”

 

“You’ve been so brave, so good,” she said, pressing her cheek into his palm.  “Duncan would be proud.”

 

“Please.  You’ve come here to talk me out of this, but I can’t.”  His voice broke.  “It’s time for me.  I’m so sorry.”

 

“I’m not here to talk you out of this—”

 

“Oh, great.  You’ve come to say goodbye.  That’s even worse.”

 

“Hush,” she said softly and, up close, he could see tears in her eyes.  His fingertip brushed one away before it could roll down her cheek.  “I haven’t come to talk to you out of this.  I too feel the pain – worry about going mad.  And I’m not saying goodbye.”

 

“Then what?”

 

“I’ve come to join you, my love.”

 

“That's—“

 

She interrupted him.  “For a year, you followed me when things seemed impossible.  We saved Ferelden.  We did all of that together… Now we will do this together, too.  I- I tried to save us.  When I couldn’t cure the taint, I… It’s me who should be sorry.  And I am.”

 

He took her into his arms then.  The Hero of Ferelden was strong, but she was not made of stone.  She wrapped her arms around his middle and rest her cheek against the cool metal of his breastplate.

 

“You followed me farther than anyone else would have—”

 

“I had no sense of self-preservation,” he noted.

 

“—And now it’s my turn to follow you.  We do this together.”

  
The selfless part of him wanted to push her away, but her embrace felt so warm and he was so relieved to see her that he could not let go.  Instead, he pressed his face into her hair and muttered his assent along with something else.  They stood like that for a long while, and then the King of Ferelden and its Hero walked hand in hand into the darkness.


End file.
